


Cherry Red

by Anonymous



Category: Lovleg (Norway TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:21:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23842198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Set between season 1 & 2, in which Gunnhild is clumsy and awkward, and Luna somehow still charmed.
Relationships: Gunnhild Kvam/Luna Oksnes
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5
Collections: anonymous





	Cherry Red

Take My Time

The deep pounding of the bass permeated the stuffy air in the room, even as Gunnhild burrowed deeper beneath her blankets and increased the volume of her music to dangerous levels. Groaning, she shifted around, blindly taking her earbuds out, flinging them across the bed. 

Nope, it was just making it worse, and she’d rather come out of it with her ears intact at least. 

Gunnhild wasn’t even sure what the reasoning behind today’s party was; it wasn’t anyone’s birthday(she’s checked, even as she has reminders set a day before the actual birth date for each one of the tenants in the White House), not that Torstein or anyone else needed a reason anyhow. 

It’s not that she disliked parties; far from it, as her liver immediately reminds her, along with a ghost sensation resembling a hangover, but today she just wanted to relax, get some homework done, and eventually maybe even finally write that poem that’s been sitting at the edge of her consciousness, begging to be put on paper, but just as she’d typed out her first word, Torstein let out a shout and the atmosphere in the house exploded with the first few notes of their party playlist.

Just as she turned her gaze to the ceiling in exasperation as Torstein let out another inhuman shriek, her mind drifted to the one place she tried to avoid going. The stars taped to the ceiling, curtesy of one of the previous inhabitants, with the moon placed strategically in the center, staring right back at Gunnhild, and illuminating her thoughts.

Luna, the girl she’d somehow managed to make out with, even with the fact that sober Gunnhild had no game, and she can’t imagine her drunk self having much more, but apparently Luna found it charming enough. 

The odd thing was that she didn’t know much about her; sure, she was familiar with the basics; where she came from, what she was studying, which instruments she could play, but when it comes to her likes and dislikes, little petpeevs and other little things, she came up empty. Not for her lack of trying, though, but she couldn’t help turning into a mumbling idiot whenever they talked during the day. She couldn’t help it, not with Luna’s piercing stare aimed straight at her. The way Luna looked at her made her shiver in the best possible way, not like she was a piece of meat, or the laughing stock of the party, but like Luna was actually listening to her, seeing the real her, hidden by layers of awkwardness and nervousness. 

And yet, she felt like she wasn’t seeing Luna at all, at least not permeating the cool façade that clung to her like a second skin. 

Luna seemed strangely absent, sort of muted, whenever they talked, as if she just wanted her to say her piece and leave her alone, which hurt more than Gunnhild expected it would.

With a sigh, she resigned herself to a night of loud music and even louder thoughts, but just as she was about to plug in her laptop, the door(she still couldn’t believe she actually had one, after months of only a flimsy curtain separating her from the rest of the house) opened to reveal a disheveled-looking Sara.

“Gunnhild, c’mon, you’ve been in your room the whole day, you need to relax a bit.” she said, peering down at Gunnhild.

“But Sara, what if she’s here?”

Sara rolled her eyes good naturedly, knowing even who ‘she’ was, even without direct confirmation. Such is the life of her long-suffering best friend. “No, she’s not, I saw her going into her room with Billie, they’re probably practicing or talking about the band. So relax and live a little.”

Gunnhild let her eyes dart from her laptop to Sara, mind running a hundred miles a minute with the new input of information. Truth be told, she could use a distraction from her thoughts.

“Sure, do we have anything other than kiwi beer? I think my stomach can’t handle it again.”

“Don’t let Ivar hear you!” said Sara, “But yes, we have some wine in the kitchen.”

“Cool.” Gunnhild nodded.

Momentarily, she debated changing clothes, but ultimately decided against it. Her classmates have all heard about her adventure with her little pony, and if she could handle that level of embarrassment, she could handle being seen in her pyjamas. 

Surprisingly, the first floor was mostly empty, with some people she didn’t really recognize hogging the sofa, but otherwise she slipped into the kitchen unnoticed. 

The cheap bottle of merlot laid unopened on the kitchen island, clearly not everyone shared her opinion on kiwi beer. She shrugged and poured herself some in a throwaway cup, not willing to risk using glass again, especially during a party. 

Suddenly, her phone ringed, and she glanced down to find a message from her parents, along with a selfie. They’re checking in, as they often do, now that she’s away from them. It’s reassuring, knowing that at least they appreciate her company. It probably helps that she doesn’t get anxious around them, as she often does around others. 

Quickly, she opened the messages app and began writing a response, suddenly overcome with longing. 

Should I send them a selfie, or is that too-

“Shit!!” 

In the moment, she wasn’t sure what startled her more; the sudden cry in her ear, or the fact that she collided with Luna of all people, and spilled wine all over her shirt, her white shirt. Nevermind that Luna’s staring at her with an amused tinge to her lips, or that she’s wearing that stupidly hot yellow flannel that makes the caramel tinge in her eyes stand out- and that terribly permanent red stain all over her t-shirt. It’s a miracle the flannel stayed untouched.

“God -I’m so sorry, I didn’t-” she began, cheeks already red with embarrassment. I should have stayed in my room! 

Luna shrugged, the motion coming to her easily, as if she’s not covered in cheap red wine. “I didn’t like this shirt that much anyway, don’t worry about it.” 

She felt herself reddening further, if such a thing were possible, as Luna’s eyes trailed over her slowly, as If she were a painting displayed in a museum. “I do like yours though, it’s very on brand.” she winked, amusement coming off her in waves.  
The pony drawn on the front of her shirt suddenly felt like a brand forced upon her skin. Which it kind of was, thanks to her spilling the beans last semester. She wasn’t the girl with the dragon tattoo, but the girl with the my little pony fetish – even if it only happened once!

Figures that the first time she decides against changing, she runs straight into Luna, of all people, who already didn’t think Gunnhild was cool, let alone upon seeing her in my little pony pyjamas. Curse her and her terrible luck.

She forces out laugh that scratches the inside of her throat as it comes out, sounding as strangled as she felt in the moment. “Oh, this thing? It’s actually not something I wear, but my mom packed it and it’s kinda the only thing I have that’s clean right now-“

Air froze in her lungs as Luna grasped her shoulder, the pressure warm and comforting, but gentle at the same time. “Relax, I was only teasing. You don’t have anything to feel embarrassed about.”

Gunnhild swore her lips moved on their own accord, splitting into a grin so huge it hurt. Here she was, standing in front of a wine-soaked Luna, and she was the one being comforted. It sent a tingle down her spine, knowing all of Luna’s attention was on her. 

Her palms felt clammy, but Luna seemingly did not mind, as she covered Gunnhild’s hand with one of her own, both now resting on the wall. She had such long, elegant fingers, that no doubt played a part in her musical capabilities, but instead of playing the guitar, she was playing Gunnhild like a fiddle, who couldn’t help her reaction to Luna and her casual touches. 

“I like what you did with your door,” she continued, seemingly unaffected by their closeness, “it’s very i-don’t-give-a-damn what people think of me.”

Gunnhild swallowed, trying to resist the urge to feel her pulse, and as she breathed in, she was met with the sharp smell of alcohol from Luna’s shirt. “Well, if people are going to remember me only as the pony girl, it’s better that I embrace it instead of feeling embarrassed over it.”

“Mhm, I suppose it would suck to suffer embarrassment on account of that for three years. I imagine it would grow old fast.” she nodded, her thumb tracing patterns into Gunnhild’s skin.

“It grew old the second time I heard it, to be honest. At least I know that whatever I say while drunk can’t be worse than that.”

“Now that’s a good way of looking at it.” she laughed, and Gunnhild found herself transfixed by her lips. She had lipgloss on, and Gunnhild wondered how it tasted. Would it be banana like last time? 

It suddenly struck her that she knew what Luna’s lips tasted like, but not other, less intimate things. She wanted to know it all, to have Luna tell her even the most mundane details about herself, anything just to get closer to her on an emotional level.

Emboldened by the way Luna was looking at her, she raised her other hand to the small of Luna’s back, feeling the rough material of the flannel beneath her fingertips. 

It all led to the pit in her stomach expanding as Luna quickly removed her hand, almost jumping away from her, as Sara sauntered into the kitchen, oblivious to the moment the two had shared.

“Luna,” she greeted breezily, as she grabbed a bottle of kiwi beer, “Did you and Billie murder somebody? Will I find a body in your room?”

“Oh,” said Luna, staring down at her shirt as if seeing the stain for the first time, “yeah I’ve had a little accident with Gunnhild, but it’s fine. Billie’s probably looking for me, now that you’ve mentioned it. I’ll see you two later.”

The fact that she left without a glance back at Gunnhild should not have hurt as much as it did. Maybe a stronger person would not have cared, but she was painfully aware of the fact that she simply was not one of them. 

“You wanna play truth or dare with Alex, Peter, Torstain and me?” asked Sara, the bottle of kiwi beer almost half empty in her hand. Maybe she was onto something. 

“Sure,” was out of her mouth before her brain even registered the question. More people. More alcohol. The perfect combination for her to stop thinking so damn much and just relax.  
Six rounds of truth and dare, and two hours later, Gunnhild was left pleasantly buzzed. Isn’t it weird how the world makes more sense when it’s blurry? 

Half and hour later, and Gunnhild was seriously regretting switching to beer. 

Five minutes later, she was kneeling in front of the toilet, as the life seemed to drain out of her through her mouth, and her thoughts all seemed to be focused on managing the exceedingly complicated task of breathing. 

Slowly, she leaned away from the toilet, resting against the tiled wall, silently hoping no one would enter, because she definitely felt like she couldn’t move. 

“Shit, bad time?”

God fucking damn it. She wanted to bang her head against the wall in frustration, and by the look on Luna’s face, she might have actually done so. 

“Are you okay?” she asked, kneeling down to her level, hand going to her forehead, blessedly cool against the heated skin. “Do you need me to bring you a glass of water?”

“Yes, please,” she managed to grind out, feeling queasy again.

What seemed like an eternity later; but probably just a few minutes, Luna emerged with a full glass of water, along with some mints. 

“Thought it would be easier than brushing your teeth,” she shrugged and then proceeded to sit on the toilet seat, gazing down at Gunnhilld.

“Wow,” she mumbled, mouth finally up to forming more complex sentences, “I think I almost feel human again. Sorry you had to see that.”

“See what? It’s not fair how you manage to look cute even when you’re cosplaying as a zombie. Really makes me wish I looked that cute when sick too, maybe Billie would actually carry me sometimes.” she laughed, completely oblivious to the effect her words had on Gunnhild, whose blush returned for a record third performance that night.

“But Luna, you are!” She didn’t know whether to blame it on the alcohol, or the absolute exhaustion that seemed to render her unable to filter out her words.

“Oh,” she blinked, “You think I’m cute?”

“N-No,” she stuttered, brain freezing in the heat of the moment, the embarrassment quickly becoming too much to bear. Thankfully, her legs seemed to have recovered enough that she was able to stand up slowly, ready to flee to her room, where she wouldn’t have to deal with her feelings for Luna. 

“You don’t?” asked Luna, looking rather shocked at the reveal, maybe even hurt.

“I mean I do, but not just cute, you’re beautiful. You could totally ditch school and make it as a model, I mean, because you’re you, you know?” and just like usual, the speechlessness turned into word vomit with the speed of light.

Slowly, Luna stood up, coming face to face with Gunnhild. Again, her hands found their way on Gunnhild’s waist, slowly inching closer, and before she knew it, Luna had her pressed against the wall of the bathroom.

“Thanks,” she murmured, their lips touching as Luna got closer.

Through the haze of her mind, only one thought lingered, as Luna’s hands wandered all over her body, and their lips fused into one.

She tastes like banana lipgloss again.


End file.
